


Sand Stream

by wat8548



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: Blow Jobs, But Mostly Smut, Disrespect of Hotel Property, Fluff and Smut, Foot Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Grinding, Horny Teenagers, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Wrestling, briefs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 18:33:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15515997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wat8548/pseuds/wat8548
Summary: Cheren didn't like sand.  It was coarse and rough and irritating and it got everywhere.





	Sand Stream

The shadows of the skyscrapers were falling long across the frontage of Hotel Blitzle, purveyors of reasonably-priced swank to the lower middle classes of northern Castelia City for slightly fewer years than were worth mentioning on the brochure, and the bright light of the lobby behind the glass doors beckoned garishly out into the darkening street. As it fell across the faces of two young men struggling forward, it illuminated their expressions of relief.

It had been Cheren's idea initially, or at least that was what Hilbert always insisted while trying to avoid taking the blame. They had both aced Castelia's Bug-type gym, but Cheren's bottomless fount of (probably) informed opinions on everything relating to the Unovan gym circuit had thrown up red flags about the gym to come. The leader was ruthless, he claimed, with strong Pokémon and a tactical sense like none other. Surely nobody in their right mind would want to just walk straight in there without taking at least a few days to train first?

Surely, Hilbert had agreed, and what's more, there was the perfect place to do it in. Just to the north of their current location was an area where lots of strong trainers hung out, and they could even both catch a Ground-type to counter Elesa's band of electric menaces. Okay, so it was a bit of a trek from there to the Pokémon Center at the south fringe of the city, but wasn't Cheren getting a bit sick of anaemic Pokémon Center food and creaky Pokémon Center beds anyway? Why not splash out on a mini city break, now that they were far enough into their journey that they could just about afford a single room and service if they pooled their earnings?

And two days ago, they had both thought this was a wonderful idea with no conceivable drawbacks. About ten minutes into their first sojourn outside Castelia's northern gate, the biggest one had made itself apparent. It was called Route 4.

"Uuuurghhh," groaned Hilbert, almost but not quite in time with the wheeze of the automatic doors. "You sure we can't just take our chances with Nimbasa instead?"

"Sure, if you want to cross the whole desert instead of just a bit of it," Cheren shot back. He was met only with the unmistakable grunt Hilbert would emit when he knew Cheren was right but didn't want to admit it. Hilbert's predictions of strong trainers had panned out better - or worse - than expected, and the wild Pokémon were no pushover either.

The two of them waddled stiffly over to the reception desk, ignoring the disapproving gaze of a manager, whose eyes traced over the thin trail of sand that was still leaking from their trouser cuffs over his nice clean floor.

Route 4 was, put bluntly, a hellhole. Nothing could prepare you for the sandstorms like a thousand paper cuts slashing at your face, or the temperature that hit you like a Flamethrower, the moment you stepped into its scorching, sand-blasted vortex. And that was just the start of the "fun". Give it a few hours - or all day, as they did - and your throat would feel like sandpaper, your clothes would be drenched in enough sweat to drown a medium-sized Patrat, opposing trainers in the orange murk would smell you before they could make eye contact with you, and the sand... well, let's just say the sand would no longer be an entirely external enemy.

The receptionist wrinkled her nose at the bedraggled trainers as the taller, brown-haired one gingerly raised his arm, wincing at the unseen shifts of abrasive grains. "Hilbert, room 216," he muttered, eventually managing to bring four Pokéballs up to the height of the desk.

"Cheren, also room 216," added his companion, having completed a similar manoeuvre with his own Pokéballs. The receptionist smiled politely, swept the balls off the desk and placed them onto the tray on which they would be carried to the hotel's recuperation room. "Thank you," she recited. "You can collect your Pokémon at any time after 9 o'clock tomorrow morning. Please note that any Pokémon left on our premises for longer than 48 hours will be released."

"Yeah, thanks," mumbled Hilbert, taking the proffered slip of paper and turning round to shuffle towards the lifts. "Thank you for choosing Hotel Blitzle, and we hope you enjoy your stay!" the receptionist shouted at the retreating backs, choosing not to mention that she hoped they would avail themselves of the en-suite bathroom facilities while they were at it.

They didn't say much outside the lift, nor during the short ride, both too exhausted to converse with much else beyond their own thoughts. The second day of training had, at least, gone better than the first. Both their Pokémon teams were showing visible signs of progress, the fights were getting easier, and two of Hilbert's party had learned new moves in that day alone. Of course, they had also stuck at it for much longer than they had the first day. The first day had ended in such painful ignominy that they had dedicated the rest of it to finding a solution for the second, and it looked like it had just about paid off.

"Second floor," announced the lift in a voice that sounded as if it had been recorded by someone sitting in the next room and wearing a ballgag. The doors on the opposite side to those in the lobby opened, much to Cheren's surprise, who had been leaning against them at the time. Hilbert grabbed his hand before he hit the floor, and together the two of them supported each other down the corridor, to the plain wooden door where relief beckoned.

Hilbert dug his hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out a fistful of sand. Grimacing, he dug his other hand into that one and disinterred a small silver key, which fitted into the lock with a minimum of scratchy protest.

The moment the heavy door clunked shut behind them Hilbert let out a loud and long sigh of relief. Cheren, who was a little way ahead, turned round to see Hilbert leaning heavily against the door, feet splayed out in front of him, and his top halfway over his head.

Cheren's breath caught and he jerked his head round to stare directly at a patch of wall opposite Hilbert. Behind him, he could hear the sounds of fabric being vigorously shaken and a large amount of sand cascading onto the carpet.

"We really should go to the launderette," Cheren croaked, his mouth suddenly feeling even drier than before. "We'll never get all this sand out without washing our clothes properly."

"Mmhmm," came the reply, punctuated by some soft thumps, in a futile attempt to dislodge the more stubborn grains.

"But I - I thought that day went really well. Better than yesterday, anyway." Cheren knew his voice was getting faster and wished he knew how to stop it. "I really feel like I'm starting to understand my Pokémon. I mean I did already, obviously, but what I mean is, spending time like this, working together to sync up with each other - I mean with my Pokémon, obviously, not with you, not that I mean you're... um..."

"Hey Cheren?" The request was so innocuous, so casual, that in hindsight Cheren should have known better than to look round. But before he knew it, his eyes landed directly on a shirtless, grinning Hilbert with his belt unbuckled and both thumbs hooked into his waistband. He just about glimpsed the dropping motion out of the corner of his eye as his head whirled back around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

"I - I don't think you should - no, I don't - what I mean is, you, well, should I go into the bathroom while you finish?" Drat. Now his voice was getting higher as well. Forgetting himself, he took a swift, incautious step forward, and the layer of sand lodged within his own clothes promptly shifted and scraped in a way that made him stiffen and gasp.

"I think you should get out of those clothes right now," Hilbert astutely observed. "What are you _afraid_ of?"

Cheren saw right through the attempt to push his buttons and fell for it regardless. "I'm not afraid!" he spluttered, almost on reflex, turning round to glare in Hilbert's direction before he remembered what he was looking at. "Um. Sorry, I didn't -"

"What are you sorry for?" Hilbert inquired, in a tone that almost suggested he was genuinely interested in the answer. Cheren's burning face may now be pointed squarely at his shoes, but it was too late - the image from a second ago was now permanently seared into the most shameful areas of his brain.

Hilbert had always been somewhat stockier than Cheren, and now he was slightly taller as well. His shoulders were broader, and there was some muscle definition in his chest and arms. He didn't have chest hair yet but looked like he was going to get it, if the tufts under his arms and the scrappy beginnings of a treasure trail were any indication. A moderate coating of brown hair covered his lower legs, thinning out slightly as it travelled up his long, toned thighs. And that left the part in between.

That, Cheren could only despairingly admit, really had been his idea. Sand in your armpits may itch like hell, sand in your trouser legs may scrape like the skin of a Ferroseed every time you moved, and sand in your hair may still be showing up the next morning (at least if you were as diligent as Cheren wasn't in washing it regularly). But there were certain parts of a guy's body where sand should never be allowed to interfere, and it hadn't been until Hilbert had suddenly doubled over in pain yesterday morning that Cheren realised what he had been taking for granted.

What Hilbert was wearing right now was a pair of Cheren's underwear. Not _his_ underwear personally - he wasn't that shameless, and besides, they wouldn't fit. But after Hilbert had confided that he did not own a single pair of pants that weren't boxer shorts in varying degrees of looseness, all of which had proved fundamentally flawed in their key protective role, Cheren offered to introduce him to the brand he always bought.

He had not appreciated until now how little they left to the imagination.

In common with everything else that had been in contact with Hilbert's skin, the white cloth was soaked with sweat. Between the curve around the top of his thighs and the elastic riding low on his waist, the narrow strip of fabric was almost transparent. The tight fit that was their entire purpose allowed the pinkness of his skin to shine through, darkening to a thick brown patch just above the most incriminating area of all.

As a rule, Cheren tried to minimise the amount of time he spent thinking about his friend's cock. It just seemed to be one of those ingredients that was essential to a healthy friendship, like not stealing their video games, not eating all of their birthday chocolate and not casually stripping off in front of their clearly uncomfortable companion. He could reasonably assume that his most recent working knowledge - from when they were eight years old, exploring the wilderness around Nuvema, and peeing against the same trees - was woefully out of date, and was content to leave it at that. Any thoughts to the contrary were to be studiously disregarded, no matter when they intruded or how awake Cheren was at the time, or what the consequences were the next morning. But this new onslaught of factual information about what had previously been a matter of speculation was proving difficult to ignore.

If there was one saving grace of the briefs, it was that they had an extra layer of material in the front, so Cheren couldn't actually tell what colour Hilbert's member was. That was now the only detail he technically didn't know for certain, such was the smoothness of the fit as it curved out and around, with a noticeable fold just underneath that revealed the resting position of the tip. The extreme heat showcased his genitals at their fullest flaccid extent, and here more than anywhere, there was no doubt that puberty had been kind.

"Come on, you don't want to stand around covered in sand forever, do you?" Hilbert eventually prompted, after Cheren failed to find any response. Behind him, the sound of Hilbert kicking his shoes and socks off were followed by a series of hollow whacks and a rushing noise that suggested they were going to get some dirty looks from the cleaning staff tomorrow. Cheren wondered how much sand was trapped in his own shoes, which were the centre of his universe right now. He wiggled his toes with an audible scrunching noise, but still made no effort to disrobe.

"You know," Cheren cast around for some topic, any topic, that he could talk about instead of having to think. "I read in a history book once that the desert tribes of ancient Unova used to cut off their foreskins to stop sand getting lodged in there."

"Sounds like a lot of pain when they could've just invented elastic." Hilbert's voice was getting ominously closer. "Hey, did your underpants hold up all right? These ones you got for me worked out really well!"

As an attempt at diverting the conversation, that had been worse than useless. Cheren tried again. "Actually, I don't think I will catch a Sandile after all. I've been researching the Nimbasa gym in more detail and I think with a little more training, my current team composition is optimal for -"

"I can turn around if you're uncomfortable," Hilbert interrupted, refusing to be distracted. "I don't mind you looking at me."

Cheren knew he should beg Hilbert to go and lock himself in the bathroom and not come out until Cheren had signed an affidavit that he was fully dressed and not likely to undress in the near future, and pushed it under the door. But the touch of Hilbert's sweaty palm on his sandy shoulder knocked any tentative formation of words out of his mind. He swallowed nervously, or attempted to given the state of his mouth, and nodded at his feet.

"Okay, I'm not looking!" Hilbert called out shortly from somewhere near the door. Cheren gave it five more seconds anyway before he reluctantly began to unbutton his shirt.

What did Hilbert even mean when he felt the need to specify he didn't mind Cheren looking at him? Okay, so maybe if Cheren had a body as good as Hilbert's he wouldn't mind showing it off once in a while. But, parking that train of thought just for a moment somewhere in the remotest scrapyards of Anville Town, Cheren clearly didn't want to look, so why was he being given permission? The question rattled in his head, orbiting around what he didn't want to admit was the most probable answer, as he undid the last button.

Well, since he had permission, and since he didn't entirely trust Hilbert not to sneak a peek, why not quickly make sure? Holding his shirt closed, Cheren slowly turned around to see Hilbert standing up straight and facing the door. The transparency of his one item of clothing was even more pronounced where it fitted over the shallow curve of his butt, to which the light coating of brown hair over the backs of his upper thighs didn't seem to have quite spread yet. If anything, his torso looked even better from the back, with a little bit of muscle supporting his shoulder blades instead of them just sticking straight out like Cheren's did.

"You all right there?" Hilbert asked without moving. Panic seized Cheren's heart as he realised he had been standing motionless and silent for maybe ten seconds. He quickly yanked off his shirt, ignoring the scraping as the sandy fabric dragged along his arms, and single-mindedly focused on unbuckling his belt as noisily as possible. Rushing to dissuade both his own thoughts and any potential intervention from Hilbert, he dropped his trousers, yanked off his shoes and socks, and stood there wearing just his glasses and his own pair of white briefs - which, he noted in despair, were in exactly the same state as Hilbert's.

Hilbert, for his part, had kept his word, or at least he appeared to have done when Cheren glanced up again. His eyes alighted on a small bead of sweat running down Hilbert's spine, reminding him of how hot he had been and how strangely freeing it felt to be standing in an air-conditioned room wearing almost nothing after the day he had just had. A jolt of guilt hit him for breaking his non-existent end of the bargain, permission or no permission.

Cheren screwed his eyes shut, psyching himself up for what he was about to do. "Okay," he said, in a voice barely above a whisper. "You - you can turn round now."

Hilbert lost no time in spinning around and letting his eyes fall on Cheren's huddled, almost naked form. He was so skinny you could practically see his ribcage; Hilbert would try to persuade him to eat more every time they had a meal together, but was only ever met with some kind of protestations about a delicate stomach. Some amount of black hair covered his shins, appearing even denser than Hilbert's although that was probably only due to the darker colour. It thinned out past his knees, with only a few strands making it to the legholes of his underpants, behind which a thick black growth was clearly visible. His torso was entirely free of hair except for a couple of comically large patches in his armpits. He was smaller than Hilbert in almost every dimension, including the length and girth department if the finely sculpted bulge in front was any indication (it was).

"See?" Hilbert said encouragingly. "Feels much better, doesn't it?"

Cheren's frantically hammering heart slowed by just a fraction as he allowed Hilbert's soothing tones to wash over him. Now that the worst had already happened, he could feel his panic ebbing away, yet he made no attempt to move or speak for several seconds.

Hilbert stepped away from the door and began walking around the room, seemingly at random. "Come on, try moving," he attempted to encourage Cheren. "Feels great to finally walk without itching again!"

Cheren knew this was probably true, but for now he was content to immerse himself in the sound of Hilbert's feet padding on the carpet. He cracked his eyes open just a fraction while Hilbert was behind him, his heart rate almost back to normal.

Hilbert apparently decided now was the time to try bolder strategies. "You have a great body, you know."

He was being kind and they both knew it, but that didn't stop Cheren's heart from diverting course from its slowdown and performing what felt suspiciously like a loop-de-loop. While he was distracted, Hilbert walked directly in front of him and he didn't clamp his eyes shut in time.

"Come on, do something! Or at least say something!" Hilbert cajoled him, allowing Cheren to believe that he hadn't seen Cheren's eyes close, or his cheeks flush or his head bow. Although that was decidedly secondary to what Cheren was worried _he_ might have seen in that half second, while his head happened to be pointed at a rather unfortunate angle. And try as he might, he couldn't keep from wondering: had that bulge got bigger since last time?

Hilbert's voice became low and serious. "Don't make me tickle you."

It worked; Cheren's eyes flew open and he took an abrupt step backwards, only for his eyes to meet Hilbert's grinning visage. "There you go," Hilbert said. "That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

"This feels weird," Cheren protested, not entirely sure what he meant by that. He had meant to imply that being almost naked felt weird, but now that he was moving, he had to admit it was close to the best feeling he had had all day. He took a few more experimental steps, and his foot crunched loudly on his discarded trousers, reminding him of just what he had escaped from. Being almost naked next to his equally almost naked best friend, though? _That_ felt weird, but in a way even his academic mind struggled to define, principally because it didn't want to examine his feelings any more closely than strictly necessary.

"After the day we just had? I'll take weird over painful," Hilbert retorted with a shrug, mirroring Cheren's movements opposite him. Cheren started to try some bolder movements, wider and higher steps, and the sheer lack of any discomfort after hours of painful, ginger movements threatened to overwhelm him with euphoria. Growing bolder, he attempted the closest thing to a hop, skip and a jump as his uncoordinated limbs would allow, before sheepishly turning back to meet Hilbert's amused expression.

"It's better than the sand, anyway," Cheren remarked, trying to keep the relief out of his voice, not wanting to sound too enthusiastic about the whole business. "We should put some clean clothes on and take these to be washed. If we hurry, we can get them cleaned and dried before we go to sleep, and then we can make the most of the early morning tomorrow before it gets too hot."

It was a sound enough deflection tactic; very Cheren-like, focus on formal matters to the exclusion of all else, especially that part of him that was telling him that actually, he might like to remain like this a little longer, even - or especially - in Hilbert's company. Unfortunately, Hilbert was having none of it. "Aw, come on, loosen up! Don't you want to cool off a bit first?"

Cheren, once again, struggled for a compelling reply. Now that he thought about it, his skin was still sufficiently sticky that he wasn't exactly relishing the prospect of trying to put clothes on it, and if he did, he'd probably have to wash them tomorrow. "Well, what do you suggest doing?" he finally replied, taking the cheap way out of flipping the question.

Hilbert shrugged, then realised Cheren was still so determined to avoid looking at him that he almost certainly hadn't noticed. "Relax a bit? Have a chat? Maybe even about things that aren't related to our training schedule?"

Cheren was thrown off guard by that last bit. It was true, though, he had to admit; for someone who was supposed to be his childhood friend, he hadn't had much to talk to him about other than strictly business for the last couple of months. Even if they were technically rivals now, and there was that whole Plasma rubbish taking up time and attention, he couldn't escape a bit of nostalgia for the times before, when the two of them could while away hours talking and arguing about the most inconsequential shit like only the firmest of friends could.

Just as long as it didn't turn into more than that.

By way of reply, Cheren yawned suddenly. Now that he wasn't on edge all the time, his tiring day was starting to catch up to him. "Actually, I think I might go to bed," he said. "You're right, we can deal with the laundry tomorrow. We'll be no use out there anyway if we're too tired to move."

"Admitting I'm right about something?" Hilbert teased. "Who are you and what have you done with Cheren?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Cheren muttered, turning away from him and lifting his arms in the air for a good stretch. That was a mistake.

Hilbert pounced immediately. Before Cheren could so much as cry out, he felt his armpits being assaulted by the most vicious tickling known to man. He stumbled forward, laughing helplessly, trying to lower his arms, but Hilbert's grip would not be budged. As his knees bashed against the bed, signifying the end of any forward escape routes, the invading fingers migrated across his bare stomach, causing his laughter to change in pitch as if Hilbert was playing him like a guitar. Desperately convulsing, he tried to push any part of Hilbert's body away from him with any part of his that could reach it. Arms and legs flailed to no avail, and as Hilbert's fingers threatened to move lower, he jerked his rear back in panic and felt it make solid enough contact to push Hilbert away for a precious fraction of a second, which he used to detach himself and fling himself face down on the bed, trying not to think about what it was he had just clearly felt through two thin layers of cloth.

"You're getting rusty," came a voice from somewhere over his head. "Too many Pokémon battles, not enough of the battles that _really_ matter..."

Sensing the approaching danger, Cheren rolled over to the other side of the double bed and stared reproachfully at the laughing figure crawling over it. Wiping his streaming face with one hand and adjusting his glasses with the other, he retorted, "At least Pokémon trainers aren't so cowardly they attack you from behind."

The mental energy involved in crafting this witty comeback thus freed up, he couldn't help but notice certain things about the position Hilbert was currently in. From this angle, on his hands and knees with eye level close to Cheren's, only three sections of his body were clearly visible: his face, his arms, and his thighs. Except, of course, for a certain white bulge pointing downwards between his thighs, and this time Cheren was in no doubt - it was _definitely_ bigger than before. Possibly even bigger than it had felt when it had dug into his backside, which raised the terrifying possibility that he had directly caused the most recent expansion. And that in turn caused a terrifyingly familiar reflex, a rush of blood and a single pump as he felt what was responsible for his own bulge plump up slightly.

"Fine!" Hilbert said, two eternal seconds after Cheren finished speaking. He leapt off the bed and walked over to the other side of the room, turning back to announce, "You want a fair fight? Come over here and get it. Loser pays for supplies tomorrow."

But the bed was really quite comfy, and now Cheren was here he was really quite tired, and now Cheren had experienced both a fleeting moment of close physical contact and its immediate effects on his body he was really quite afraid of the prospect of any more. "Go to bed, Hilbert," he called out without moving, trying to hide the waver in his voice.

Hilbert was having none of it. "Don't make me come over there and drag you out!"

Cheren couldn't decide if he was frightened or thrilled at that prospect, or frightened that the second was even an option. He decided to follow time-honoured tactics and call Hilbert's bluff. "You wouldn't dare."

A few seconds' pause, then Hilbert spoke again. "You'll have to get up sometime. You never go to sleep without brushing your teeth and making sure your bag is in order first."

Drat. He was right. Cheren was almost tempted to fall asleep just to spite him, but Hilbert really did know him exceedingly well. He was a creature of custom and routine, and the guilt at not brushing his teeth would likely eat away at him all night.

He opted not to reply and stubbornly tried to close his eyes anyway, which didn't exactly have the intended effect. Freed from visual distractions, vulgar images danced across his eyelids as his primitive adolescent mind eagerly flipped through its photo album of everything it had seen in the last five minutes. He tried to ignore it, but that just resulted in his attention drifting into far more obscene imagined scenarios, and not only did he think he was managing to get _less_ tired but his self-control was rapidly failing. His cock twitched and filled out a little more inside its prison, and then he snapped.

Flinging his eyes open and himself off the bed without a word, Cheren marched over to where Hilbert was waiting, legs apart and hands on knees. "How tiresome," he said to nobody in particular, barely managing to convince himself he meant it. He placed his glasses on the dressing table and took up a pose mirroring Hilbert's, looking his friend in the eye and definitely not anywhere else.

"Ready?" called Hilbert, not waiting for a reply before adding, "3, 2, 1, go!"

He launched himself forward, or at least that was what Cheren could reasonably deduce had happened during the split second his attention had been elsewhere, based on the fact that all of Hilbert's weight was on his shoulders and he was currently falling backwards. "Ow!" he protested as they hit the floor in a tangle of limbs. "I wasn't ready!" he elaborated, lying on his back as he tried to push Hilbert off, the strength difference between the two of them suddenly becoming very apparent.

Hilbert just laughed as he did battle with Cheren's flailing arms, knees on either side of the other boy's torso. He may have had the strength advantage, but Cheren had the tactical smarts, and it didn't take him long to notice that Hilbert was completely distracted with only one half of Cheren's body. If he could just bring his legs into play here, currently lying uselessly somewhere behind his assailant, he could yet score a surprise turnaround.

One problem, though: he was not even close to as flexible as he would like to believe. To raise his legs up without being able to touch them required a considerable amount of groin movement, and that was how his sudden, jerky motion ended with his crotch abruptly digging between Hilbert's legs.

Time froze for a second, nothing moving except for two tell-tale twitches. Cheren snapped out of it first and yanked Hilbert sideways, forcing him off and onto the floor. Cheren rolled with him, then climbed onto his stomach to make sure he couldn't escape. He sat down, pinning Hilbert's arms to his sides, and looked his shocked expression in the eye.

"There," he panted. "I win. Are you happy now?"

He was trying to ignore the physical contact, but the clothed tip of his mostly-engorged dick was touching Hilbert's skin. Even as he spoke, he felt two pumps from down below, his briefs expanding visibly with each one and digging further into Hilbert's front, and as he reached full erection it was difficult to stop himself from thrusting his hips.

"Dunno, but you certainly seem to be," Hilbert replied breathlessly, attempting a cheeky smile that definitely ended up looking as if it had something else behind it. And then, before Cheren could reply, he sat up and lifted his arms as if he wasn't being restrained at all, throwing the full force of his superior upper body strength onto Cheren's shoulders and causing him to topple backwards. His head hit the carpet, leaving him slightly dazed, but that was nothing compared to the feeling that exploded within him when the small of his back hit something else.

For all Hilbert's teasing, he was just as hard. His tented crotch spasmed once or twice as about half of his uncomfortably bent boner dragged along Cheren's skin, and then, when Hilbert backed up a little, a full view of his obscene bulge came into sight above Cheren's own. There was no mistaking it when looking at them side by side - Hilbert's was definitely longer, and thicker. Unlike Cheren his briefs weren't even physically capable of containing all of it, and about half of his pubic hair was out in the open where the waistband strained forward, to speak nothing of what one might be able to see with a closer look through the partially open legholes.

Hilbert moved forward as if to restrain Cheren again, but unlike last time, where he had kept his crotch about six inches in the air, he deliberately sat right down on top of him. Cheren couldn't stop himself from letting out a gasp as their groins mashed together, his cock pulsating madly as it came into contact with the other hard lump, and for all Hilbert seemed calm and collected the excited movement in the front of his own pants told a different story. Cheren noticed for the first time a deep flush colouring Hilbert's face, and could only speculate what shade of puce his own was right now.

Hilbert had easily demonstrated his physical strength, but now he didn't even need it to keep Cheren lying motionless. He gave a small smile, letting some of his nervousness leak into it, although that was nothing compared to the equal parts terror and arousal Cheren's face was displaying. Then he rolled his hips forward and Cheren let out a half-gasp, half-shout that made him want to join in, or possibly lean forward and - no, not yet. Their penises twitched in unison, stimulating each other a little further with each movement, and Hilbert knew it was no longer solely sweat that was dampening his crotch. He settled back a little, allowing his cock to rest on top of Cheren's, leaning back until he felt his testicles come into contact with the twin bulges just below Cheren's tent, made all the more prominent by how much of the small amount of give in the fabric was required to keep his penis in check.

Making sure their balls could feel each other, he wiggled his hips from side to side, triggering more gasps and half-formed expletives from the owner of the other rapidly pulsating boner pressed against his. The pulses continued even after Hilbert stopped moving entirely, save for his penis which he couldn't stop from moving if he wanted to. The combination of the frantic pumps and the expression on Cheren's face suggested only one plausible conclusion.

"Are you gonna cum?" Hilbert's voice sounded quite unlike his own, low and husky and perhaps just a little bit _desperate_. He caught himself off-guard so much that his cock gave an extra-large twitch, and it might have been in reply to that rather than the question that Cheren let out a long moan.

"Yeah, just like that." Hilbert decided to roll with it and let the stream of consciousness pour out of him. "You're gonna shoot all your cream right into your pants, aren't you, and all in front of me."

Cheren groaned again and then his hips bucked upwards, which Hilbert hadn't been prepared for. He nearly lost his balance, then struggled to regain it while shaking off the light-headedness that the feeling of their two erections jabbing hard against each other had brought on. He leaned forward and grabbed hold of Cheren's ribs to brace himself while he moved his legs backwards until he was lying on his front, knees on the floor between Cheren's legs and crotches firmly pressed into each other.

"You nearly there?" Hilbert breathed into Cheren's face, the question turning out to have a bit more of a pleading note than he had intended. He hadn't quite appreciated how close he was himself, but as he picked up the pace with his grinding it struck him that if Cheren didn't go over the finish line soon then he might beat him to it. "Come on, come for me," he implored. "I wanna see you fill those undies up with your jizz."

He left out the fact that he couldn't see squat from his present position, but at least he'd have a beautiful view of his friend's O-face, which looked like it was just starting to develop. Just in time, too, because Hilbert could feel his balls drawing up and knew the river of precum in his own briefs was about to be joined by the real thing. He let out a few gasps and pants in time with Cheren's near-hyperventilating, his hips a blur as he edged them both closer towards release, and then a split second before he reached his peak, Cheren finally found his strength.

Caught off guard, Hilbert rolled sideways at the force of the shove. Stars in his eyes, heart going at a million miles a minute and spasming hard-on a feather's touch away from ejaculating, he attempted to piece together what had just happened. Nearby, Cheren lifted himself up on shaking arms, trying desperately to get his cock to calm down, a task which was not helped in the slightest by what he saw when he glanced sideways.

The force of rubbing their penises together had pushed Hilbert's into an upright position, barely constrained by his waistband and poking outwards at the most obscene angle possible. From Cheren's vantage point, he had a clear view of the base through the gap, mostly covered in brown hair but with a short, pink stretch of the main part of the thick shaft visible. And if the uncovered parts of Hilbert's body were quite a sight, they were nothing compared to the covered parts, if that was a term that could still be applied to a thin strip of white material rendered nearly transparent by all the clear fluid that had leaked out of Hilbert's dick. It was perfectly moulded around his glans, the darker pink colour shining through, with a small black hole at ground zero of the continuing seepage.

Despite himself, Cheren felt his hips thrust upwards, and let out a strangled gasp which attracted Hilbert's attention. Cheren's cock tensed up and froze in place for ten long seconds, desperately trying to ejaculate while Cheren, with his eyes screwed shut, tried to will the rush of semen back into his balls. His erection had been forced into a similar position to Hilbert's; his shorter length meant that Hilbert didn't actually have a clear view inside his pants, but that was cold comfort when he could trace the exact outline of the head, the underside of the shaft and the balls, which seemed to be the only parts of his body that were moving. A continuous stream of (sometimes suspiciously thick) precum dribbled against the translucent cloth, revealing the exact size and shape of his gaping piss slit to anyone who cared to look (Hilbert did, very much), some of it then sliding down the back of his shaft and dampening his underwear further, the rest collecting in a growing puddle amidst his pubes.

Cheren won the fight against his orgasm eventually, though not without casualties, and let his elevated hips hit the floor with a decisive thump. Hilbert's hand had crept to his crotch - neither of them were sure when - and was squeezing his turgid bulge for all it was worth, feeling his erection angrily pulsate beneath his fingers, which he didn't dare move for fear of meeting the same fate Cheren had barely avoided. Their eyes lifted from each other's groins and met directly, Hilbert wearing half a stupid grin that barely disguised a lustful smoulder, Cheren's expression even more inscrutable than normal.

"What the fuck was that?" Cheren demanded at last, his voice cracking and struggling to break through his heavy breathing.

"Awesome?" Hilbert suggested, lazily pushing his hand down to make his boner stand vertically, exposing a vein gently throbbing on his reddened shaft. Cheren hissed through his teeth and Hilbert's smile grew wider.

They lay there silently for almost a full minute, Cheren trying to get his breath and wits back, and Hilbert unwilling to make the first move lest Cheren take fright and ruin not just this evening, but their continuing friendship. Hilbert let his fingers continue to slowly caress his arousal, occasionally pausing to take a sweep over his confined balls. Cheren's fingers were scrunched into fists and held at an angle that suggested he was actively making an effort to force them away from his crotch, not that it was helping his dick soften at all.

Eventually Hilbert started to get worried. Dropping the hand that rested on his cock, he reached the other one out to Cheren's left fist and gently closed around it; he felt Cheren jump slightly but he didn't protest. "Are you OK?" he asked with more sincerity than he had managed since they had entered the room.

"I've just had my best friend frotting against me and telling me he wants to see me jizz, I think I'm entitled to freak out a little," Cheren mumbled in reply.

"You loved it," Hilbert almost said, biting his tongue just in time. He mentally filed away the word "frotting" for later use. Spending time around Cheren was a sure-fire way to passively accumulate knowledge about all sorts of subjects, albeit not usually this one. That just made Hilbert wonder how much, and what type of, "research" Cheren had spent at least some portion of his adolescence undertaking. Casting around for a sensitive approach to the subject, he finally settled on, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable -"

"Yes you did," Cheren interrupted, but the words didn't seem to have any of the venom behind them that Hilbert knew he was more than capable of when he disapproved of something.

"Yeah, you're right, I did," Hilbert conceded, loosening his hand as he felt Cheren's fist slackening beneath it. Their eyes met for a moment, and then the spell broke, and they both dissolved into giggles at the same moment. On Hilbert's part, it was partly relief - he knew that if they could still tease each other, then nothing could have been too badly damaged. For Cheren, the shock had worn off and the absurdity of the situation in which they found themselves had begun to sink in.

Hilbert still wasn't quite sure what had pushed him to act like he did, but he was wary of pushing his luck any further. He couldn't take the risk of driving away one of his closest friends, who had been by his side since they were babies, and while they'd done a lot of dumb shit together and to each other over the years, the important thing was that they could always laugh about it afterwards. Although, now that he thought about it, was this the first time he'd ever truly _seen_ Cheren's laughing face? Because it sure felt like it. Hilbert found himself involuntarily fixated on details he'd never noticed before, such as the way Cheren's sharply defined cheekbones framed his smile, or how his eyes - normally obscured behind glasses - crinkled up at the edges, which did so much to make his expression unrecognisable compared to the stern one he was more often seen wearing. Before he had time to contemplate what he was doing, Hilbert felt a great rush of mixed affection and protectiveness swell in his chest, and he knew instantly that he could never live with himself if he did anything that led to that face showing pain, or fear, or sadness.

He realised a bit too late that they had both stopped laughing and he had sort of been smiling vacantly in Cheren's direction for the last ten seconds or so, a fact which did not go unnoticed by Cheren. Their hands awkwardly jerked apart from where they were still touching, and Hilbert cleared his throat awkwardly and cast a glance back down to their slightly softened, but still very much at attention, twin tents.

"Erm... we should probably sort ourselves out and get to bed," Hilbert said, his tone of voice very much more subdued than earlier. He took a breath, psyching himself up to address the Mamoswine in the room. "Do you want to... you know... take the bathroom, and I'll... uh... deal with myself out here?"

It was Cheren's turn to gain a cheeky glint in his eye. "Not so fast. Didn't you have a fight to lose?"

Hilbert's heart skipped a beat and his dick instantly jumped back to full mast. Were they really doing this? Was it going to go all the way? A look of understanding briefly passed between them, and then they both hauled themselves up and stood facing each other, taking up the same pose as previously, except this time the two pairs of briefs tenting outwards as if straining to touch in the middle betrayed their true motivations.

"I'll decide when I'm ready this time," Cheren announced sternly. His hand crept downwards, subconsciously groping himself in an attempt to relieve the discomfort in his pants. He briefly wondered if they should both just say "fuck it" and strip naked, but somehow, in spite of everything that had already transpired, that felt like it would be crossing a line that he wasn't quite ready to cross yet. He allowed his eyes to briefly drift towards Hilbert's crotch, intending to steal one last glimpse of his friend's impressive cloth-covered endowment and the thick brown bush peeking over the top of the straining waistband, but Hilbert was too quick to notice and before Cheren could react, suddenly there was a hand jammed down in the front of those pants, wrapped around Hilbert's meat and giving it a few vigorous tugs. Cheren swore he felt his already sodden underwear get damper in that instant, and as his eyes met Hilbert's flushed but grinning face, he blurted out, "Threetwoonego!"

He charged forwards before he'd figured out what he was going to do when he got there, but it didn't matter, because Hilbert's reaction times were much faster and he found himself stumbling into the place where his target had been a second before taking a swift sidestep. Before he could gather himself, he felt Hilbert's strong arms hook under his armpits from behind and roughly pull him backwards. Cheren lost his footing and his weight caused the two of them to fall backwards, but Hilbert twisted at the last minute and barely managed to guide them to a soft landing on the bed. Or in Cheren's case, on Hilbert, who mostly provided a soft landing with one very obvious, pulsating exception.

If Hilbert was winded, he didn't show it. Cheren soon found his arms restrained by a bigger pair clamped across his chest, and there wasn't much he could do to struggle other than kick his legs and wiggle his hips from side to side, both of which had the side-effect of agitating the boner currently jammed underneath his backside. Perhaps this was why Hilbert pushed him down slightly, his penis now dragging along Cheren's lower back, but perhaps more importantly it meant he could lean forward and bury his mouth and nose in Cheren's hair. It was almost but not quite a kiss of sorts, and he might have been taking in Cheren's scent or on the other hand he might have simply been breathing. Then, while Cheren was distracted, Hilbert spread his legs out from under Cheren's and lifted his muscled thighs in the air, and Cheren only realised where his right foot was going a second before it made contact.

But it didn't stop there. Hilbert dug the joint at the base of his big toe into the underside of Cheren's penis just above his balls, eliciting a stuttered vocalisation from him. Then he dragged it slowly upwards, in time with Cheren's ragged intake of breath, until his foot was resting on Cheren's stomach. Breathing a little heavier and clutching Cheren's arms a little tighter, Hilbert gently but firmly pushed his foot down until it was hooked under the tip of Cheren's underwear tent, and then he began pushing outwards. Cheren cried out a little at the pressure as his dick was forced from its horizontal position into a vertical one, Hilbert's foot scratching against his exposed pubes, but Hilbert kept pushing. The lower half of his engorged cock tasted fresh air for the first time as his waistband rode up, and Hilbert eventually gave up pushing when it was pointing fourty-five degrees downwards, accepting that Cheren was simply too hard to go further. Instead, he drew back a little, using his other foot to hold the tip in position, and ran his toes up and down the bare flesh of the portion of Cheren's shaft that he had managed to reveal. Cheren couldn't stop his voice from making strange noises as he was stimulated in a way he never had been before, some of which were joined by muffled grunts into his hair. Hilbert was lifting his hips against Cheren's back, trying to do something for his own throbbing hard-on, but it wasn't working.

Cheren wasn't sure whether it had been intentional, but he soon realised that the one-sided nature of the sexual exchange was a feature, not a bug. Hilbert was at his weakest when he was distracted with chasing his own release, which was the only chance Cheren had to catch him by surprise and overpower him. But now, he seemed perfectly content to allow Cheren to go through with the orgasm he could already feel building in his balls, while maintaining a firm grip he could not possibly hope to escape. All other options thus exhausted, he was left with no choice but to exercise one of his weaker skillsets: tactful diplomacy.

"H-h-hey, ah! - Hilb-b-bert," Cheren managed to gasp out. He wasn't used to his voice sounding so weak and submissive, and judging by the lurch Hilbert's dick gave against his back he wasn't either.

"Mmhmm?" came the vibration into his skull. Hilbert had stopped moving his foot temporarily, two of his toes now lying scrunched up inside Cheren's unruly black bush. Cheren knew he didn't have much time to come up with an answer, and racked his brains trying to come up with something that might persuade Hilbert to allow him to gain the upper hand.

Cheren took a moment to catch his breath, then said, "You're not getting off."

"So?" was Hilbert's muffled reply. The movement of his lips against Cheren's scalp caused funny feelings to travel all the way up Cheren's body, peaking in a goofy smile that tugged at the corners of his lips where he was very glad Hilbert couldn't see.

"Don't you want to?" Cheren cajoled him, tipping his head back a bit in what was nominally a fruitless attempt to make something approaching eye contact, but might just have been an excuse to rub Hilbert's face against him a bit more.

There was a short silence while they both processed exactly what had just been implied. Cheren swore he felt Hilbert's arms squeezing him more tightly, in what didn't even seem to be for the purposes of restraint any more, but more like a... what was it... one of those things... ah, yes, it was called a "hug", wasn't it. Those things Bianca liked that had required him to spend weeks rigorously training her in the concept of respecting other people's personal boundaries, not that he seemed to have many of those at the moment.

Two having been given the necessary amount of time to collide with two inside Hilbert's skull, he asked, "Are you offering?" He was trying to keep his voice to the same slow murmur as before, but there was a slight but unmistakable increase in tempo, a muted sense of urgency, and the tiniest of wavers that told Cheren all he needed.

"Only if you'll let me," Cheren replied, hoping that that suggested all that it needed to. He still couldn't move his hands or arms, thanks to the vice-like (but warm and strangely soft) grip of Hilbert's bare arms. It wasn't as if he was all that built except in comparison to Cheren's noodle limbs, but the absence of a shirt allowed every muscle contraction to be visible in what would probably have been exquisite detail if only Cheren was wearing his glasses. Meanwhile, Hilbert still had one foot shoved halfway down Cheren's pants, which had just started moving again... and yet again, Cheren only realised what was going to happen a split second too late to stop it.

With a violent _thwack_ and an arc of precum, Cheren's penis sprang back from its restraints and slapped against his belly, coming to rest about half an inch above his skin with its damp, angry purple glans flaring and throbbing as it was finally exposed to the air. Hilbert used both his feet to shove Cheren's briefs the rest of the way down his legs until they were out of reach around his ankles.

"Hey!" Cheren protested, trying to struggle against the disrobing, but it was significantly more difficult to kick his legs now that they were effectively tied together. Hilbert crossed his legs on top of Cheren's to subdue him, the hair on his calves scratching against that on Cheren's shins. His pose was feeling more like a full-body embrace than ever, until he lifted his head backwards to allow himself to speak clearly.

"If you wanna get me off, you're gonna have to use that."

And with that, he slackened his grip at last. Cheren practically tore himself from his grasp at the first opportunity, sitting up with his naked butt planted between Hilbert's thighs. He could feel Hilbert's testicles nestled directly behind it, which wasn't doing anything for the state of his own junk, now pointing diagonally upwards from between his own legs. His first instinct was to reach down and try to pull his one item of clothing up again, but he hesitated when Hilbert issued a command: "Now you do mine."

Cheren's internal dilemma raged for several seconds, his horniness clashing with his shyness on a scale never before seen. The fact was - there was no point trying to deny it any longer - he really, really wanted to see Hilbert's cock. He was even being given permission! And he had a feeling that, once he'd seen Hilbert's cock, he'd really, really want to introduce it to his own, and bugger whatever Hilbert might see because at least they'd be even. On the other hand, this was crossing exactly the line he'd been dreading all evening. Voluntarily exposing himself, even to someone he trusted as much as Hilbert, went against everything he thought he stood for. Could he bring himself to do it, no matter how much he thought he'd die if he didn't get his rocks off in the next five minutes?

The answer turned out to be surprisingly straightforward. As strong-willed and stubborn as Cheren was, he had to concede that there was only so much control a teenage boy could exert over his own libido, and he turned around.

Hilbert got his first proper look at the nude form before him as Cheren rose up on his knees, his erection sticking straight out in front of him like a Dowsing Machine. Below it, a pair of dark purple balls hung low, covered in long but downy fluff. In spite of the dominant pose he had assumed, there was still apprehensiveness written all over his face, and before Hilbert could stop himself he heard the words, "You're cute," escape his lips.

Cheren's face had barely lightened above a deep pink since he first got into this mess, but now he felt like it might actually burst into flames. "Shut up," he muttered, dropping his head down so as to hide the luminescence behind a lank curtain of black hair, except there was no disguising his true reaction now that everything was out for all to see. And sure enough, Hilbert's eyes fixated on Cheren's dick as it jerked upwards and stiffened at an angle for a full two seconds, a cloudy bead of moisture seeping out and running down the underside of his helmet.

Cheren quickly moved to busy himself, seizing the waistband of Hilbert's briefs with both hands and shuffling backwards in rather more motions than necessary. He froze once again before tugging, one last decision he had to make before his life would never be the same again, a decision that was made for him when Hilbert called out softly, "Do it."

As if ripping off a plaster, Cheren yanked both his arms as hard as he could. He encountered more resistance that he expected, which turned out to be because he had neglected to account for Hilbert's tip being hooked under the elastic. For a brief moment, he was pulling the dick downwards with the cloth, until it sprang free and smacked forward in exactly the same way as Cheren's had done.

His first good look at the tool that had caused him so much bother already was interrupted by Hilbert bending forward and pushing his pants the rest of the way down, requiring Hilbert to awkwardly lift his knees out of the way. Finally, two sets of ankles were hanging off the edge of the bed, each tied together by a soaking thin strip of white fabric, while up above, two erections, very different in size, shape and colour, but united in a common desire, pulsed in mutual excitement.

As Hilbert had once done, but now with nothing separating them at all, Cheren shakily but steadily lowered his hips. Hilbert's gaze was transfixed by the approaching collision, as the hairs on their ballsacks were the first body parts to make contact, then he hissed slightly as Cheren's testicles came to rest against his own, then Cheren leaned forward slightly and both of them moaned simultaneously as their warm and sticky shafts made direct contact for the first time. Hilbert couldn't stop a series of desperate twitches running up and down his dick at the long-awaited sensation of his friend's meat rubbing against it, and Cheren's organ responded in kind, tipping both of them closer towards the point of no return.

It was no use pretending that this bit of rough-housing hadn't turned into what it had, but Hilbert felt one final concession to their originally agreed set of rules was in order. "First to cum loses?" he offered.

"Deal," said Cheren, his face set.

They moved towards each other as one, Hilbert lifting his hips to press his genitals against Cheren's while Cheren leaned forward and placed more of his weight on the body underneath him. The combined hip movements caused their ballsacks to gently massage each other, and Cheren's penis lifted up from the stimulation of the skin of Hilbert's shaft brushing against it, a sticky trail of precum between his urethra and a point just short of Hilbert's remaining their only connection. Placing both hands on the bed underneath Hilbert's outstretched arms, Cheren rolled his hips back again, his cock never lowering from its excited state, a cannon primed to fire at any second.

Cheren masturbated, of course - who didn't. He was terribly self-conscious about it and tried only to do it when there was no-one else in the house and then only into the toilet, but after the first few nocturnal accidents, he had been forced to conclude that this was just a regular biological need that he was going to have to remember to attend to along with all the others. (Although, since he had started his journey and frequently found himself camping miles from civilisation, he had experimented once or twice with painting trees white.) His scientific mind knew perfectly well that Hilbert must have the same needs as him, but outside of the darkest handful of moments when he was laser-focused on relieving himself and rationally knew exactly what was the most efficient way to do it, he tried to push the notion out of his mind.

Being here, in the same room as Hilbert, with both of them chasing what had previously been Cheren's most private and shameful pleasure, and on top of that getting to touch Hilbert while he was doing it, was something he could never have adequately prepared for. He felt as if he was going to explode. Midway through his third thrust, he abruptly stopped, tensed erection quivering in the air, as he fought back the impending eruption. He swore there was a whole orgasm's worth of semen sitting inside his penis right now, but Hilbert was just lying there unsatisfied. He couldn't possibly be as close to spilling his load as Cheren was right now, if only because _nobody_ could be as close as Cheren was right now. He had to do something to even the odds... or at least to be a considerate partner.

He leapt up and spun around before either Hilbert or the conscious parts of his brain had time to react. Replacing his hands with his knees, he knelt down with his arse pointing perilously close to Hilbert's face and his heat-expanded ballsack dangling underneath. Ignoring the slightly muffled cry of surprise, he zeroed in on the engorged phallus lying flat against Hilbert's stomach and, using his left hand to support himself, grasped it firmly by the base and pointed it towards his face.

He was not ready for the smell. As soon as Hilbert's cock was adjacent to his nostrils, he was almost overwhelmed by a slightly rancid mix of dried sweat, fresh sweat, and cum that rudely reminded him that neither of them had got around to showering yet. His rational mind seized the opportunity to briefly intrude and remind him exactly what it was that he was contemplating doing, but before his hesitation could evolve into a chickening-out, the most subtle undertone of the musk hit him. It was a scent that defied description, and yet Cheren could instantly place it. It was the scent he'd known when Hilbert had been holding him down on the living room floor in protest at his being too good at a video game; when Hilbert reached across his desk to borrow his red pen while they were practising mock exams for the Trainers' School; when Hilbert was standing close by his side, maybe a little to the front, in that dank cave, seeing off those bothersome grunts with a Pokémon team that was already both stronger and larger than his. He'd known it all his life, and yet at no point had it taken on a greater significance than before now. Here he was, less than an inch from the part of his best friend which he knew the least, but which that so-called friend had been tormenting him with glimpses of almost continuously since they entered this room. Now at last the crown was exposed, and Cheren had every intention of getting very familiar with it indeed.

"Um... Chere- ah!" Hilbert was cut off by the sudden sensation of his cock head being engulfed by something warm and wet. Cheren shifted slightly and moved Hilbert's dick to a more convenient angle, feeling it pulse beneath his fingertips; the piss slit poked against his tongue just in time to excrete a dribble of salty fluid, which Cheren let linger there while he worked his tongue into other areas. Getting more daring, Cheren pushed his head down until he felt Hilbert's tip dig into the roof of his mouth, running his tongue around the base of the glans, tugging down with his hand to move the roll of foreskin out of the way. Hilbert was starting to thrash like crazy, and seemed to have lost all powers of verbal communication, letting out only a stream of grunts and gasps as he struggled in Cheren's firm grip.

Cheren gently suckled at the head of Hilbert's dick while ghosting his fist up and down the shaft, a mixture of saliva, sweat, and seminal fluids trickling down it. He maintained only the lightest touch with his fingers, yet the organ spasmed beneath them as if electrified, and with every lurch came another noise from behind him and another leak inside him. He felt and tasted as much as he could, running his tongue all over as if he was going to be tested on the exact size and shape later, savouring the flavour of something he'd never imagined he'd get to put in his mouth not one hour ago. His own neglected boner twitched sympathetically between his legs, loving every second of close contact with Hilbert's privates, and he didn't dare touch it because he knew it was still ready to spew at a moments' notice. Withdrawing slightly, he clamped his lips halfway down the glans and flicked the tip of his tongue back and forth across the dilating slit. He was rewarded with the biggest leak yet and what sounded suspiciously like a whole syllable.

"I..." Hilbert struggled to get out, "I..."

Normally Cheren was a stickler for clarity and saying exactly what one meant, but in this case he was prepared to make concessions considering the evident urgency of the situation, and the fact that he didn't really need to guess at the missing words anyway. Withdrawing with a quiet pop and a small splash, Cheren risked one last end-on view of Hilbert's meat stick, then, before it could go off in his face, sat up and swivelled round to his previous position.

He had barely rested his cock back on top of Hilbert's now damp and twitching one when something primal overtook Hilbert. With the neediest groan Cheren had ever heard, he reached out with his big, strong hand, enclosed both of their boners in a single fist, and began furiously pumping. His back sank into the mattress, his eyes screwed shut and an expression of pure desperation etched onto his face, while his groin lifted up with almost enough force to raise Cheren into the air. There was no more pretence at niceties or teasing; this was Hilbert as no-one saw him except himself in his most intimate moments, roughly tugging himself towards an urgent, blissful release, except now Cheren was privileged to share in his pleasure - not just to watch, but to experience the raw need of Hilbert's fist violently flying along their combined shafts, his powerful hand feeling as if it was built for his larger dick, but with just enough spare room to admit Cheren's too. Their sweaty, slimy cocks slid over each other inside Hilbert's death grip, the contractions of two impending orgasms mutually pushing them further over the edge.

It was all over in about two seconds. With one last breathy grunt accompanied by a gasp from Cheren, two heads were thrown back, two sets of balls contracted and two penises tensed up with a rush of pent-up spunk, each stimulating the other that bit further along the way. Hilbert and Cheren emptied themselves, mostly over Hilbert's chest and face and hair, but a bit on the bed and probably some on the carpet behind as well. Twin ropes of thick white jizz fired out, again and again, in both cases the most forceful orgasm either of them had ever experienced. Cheren lost his balance and crashed forwards onto Hilbert's sticky body while still ejaculating, and Hilbert returned the favour, pumping the last few loads of his seed onto Cheren's belly while Cheren involuntarily humped him until his climax subsided.

There was a long silence afterwards, Hilbert not making any attempt to stop Cheren from putting all his weight on him, both of them torn between being to exhausted to speak and having no idea what to say. Their heaving, naked, messy chests pressed against each other, hearts frantically thudding as if they were trying to break through and unite as one.

Hilbert stirred first, extracting his wanking hand from where Cheren had fallen on top of it, and vaguely patting him on his skinny bare butt while waiting for the pins and needles to clear up. He rested his other hand on top of Cheren's back in a sort of limp half-hug that caused Cheren to squirm slightly.

"So," Hilbert wheezed, trying to get his breathing under control. "Draw, then?"

Cheren lifted his head, and Hilbert became conscious of the fact that this was the first time they had made eye contact at such close range since he had dragged them onto the bed. He was almost tempted to do something about it, but Cheren beat him to it - suddenly his eyes were a lot closer, and then they were kissing, Cheren smearing his cheeks with the dollops of spooge still splattered across Hilbert's face without apparently minding, and Hilbert swore he could still taste his own cock on Cheren's tongue but perhaps he didn't mind so much either. He brought his hands up, tentatively cradling the back of Cheren's head, and together they deepened the kiss into a full-fledged snogging session.

Hilbert practically had to shove Cheren back so he could breathe in, taking the opportunity to cup Cheren's cheeks and take a closer look at the face which, although he couldn't pinpoint when it happened, he was no longer afraid to admit that he had fallen in love with. (The second-hand sperm on Cheren's face migrated further to his palms, but he paid it no mind.)

"We should clean up or the hotel's gonna kill us," Hilbert whispered.

"Later?" Cheren pleaded, somehow arranging his features into a Lillipup-like expression that was so uncharacteristic that Hilbert almost burst out laughing. He answered the question by resuming the kiss.

A lot of things could wait till later. But the only important one was what they had right now.


End file.
